Stretched-out on the sand you'd think he's asleep
He's beautiful and very calm in the biting cold
He's a nomad warrior, a man of the desert
Lying on the sand, the eyes wide open
How far do they go, the nomads, farther than death
In the singing stars there is the watchtower
What are dreaming the nomads of, under the open sky
Of Arab pure bloods foaming the sea.
Remain in your dreams, it's maybe better
But here comes the morning and amidst it
There is the frontier.
Violence is silence,
Silence is the desert
Sand sentinels facing the sea
Shoot at all that budges, even at dust
Shoot at the red sun dying in the sea.
Who's dividing the stones, the jungles and the sand
Who's stretched the universe flat on the table
Who's afraid of his own shadow and who goes to war
But already the wind wipes-out your name of the stone
Stretched-out on the sand you'd think he's asleep
But for a nomad it's only after death
That the frontier is no more.
Where is the frontier?
Where is the frontier?
For whom is the frontier?
Is it far the frontier?
Why the frontier?
Where is the frontier?